Co-counsel in Defense of ID
What Do You Mean?
He is honest;
she is healthy;
this is reality;
that is a dream.
The knight beneath the armor
is no more a knight with royal fire
than the weakling he is waiting for
carrying arms and shield: the squire.
Alas, such chivalry disguised with cape
a heartless savage blinded eyes
no honor there but bent on rape . . .
or worse, he lives with lies.
Perhaps, the problem's not reality
but perceptions
that just a sliver show
not all but what we want to know
not facts but hints which generally
lead on to false conclusions. See?
But, what are you, really, Sir?
The what I see or who you are,
really, beneath the folds, false promises,
partial truths, or slight impressions
unclarified, unclouded by suppressions
by superego of the virtue of your naked ID?
So, was I wrong, Sir, what I see
the truth that you present to me?
I look for you somewhere inside
where none deceive by lips, but eyes
tell all no words by which you hide
with naught but to apologize.
I save my love for not a dream
the really you – not what you seem.
Poetry by NotaDeadPoet
Read 466 times
Written on 2007-03-27 at 03:22
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Rob Graber |
